Chapter 13
13
For a while, Stella paced noisily up and down the quayside. She was hoping Marina would take pity on her and reveal any other scraps of information or insights she might have forgotten to pass on. Either that or admit it was all a joke in very bad taste and apologise for causing such distress.
But the artist, seemingly oblivious to Stella’s presence, merely turned round and resumed painting. If Stella hadn’t been in such turmoil, she’d have laughed out loud. How could anyone behave normally after trying to frighten someone out of their wits? You’d think Marina would at least have the decency to offer Stella a seat for a moment and make sure she was all right.
Conscious of the unopened letter from Jon waiting for her at the villa, she was faced with an impossible choice: whether to rush home to see what it said and check he was okay, or heed Marina’s silly warning and remain by the sea.
She called Hector again to find out if Jon had returned, but the answer was no.
‘I need to stay by the sea for a while,’ she said, almost without thinking.
‘Why?’
‘I’ve had some news. It’s fine, I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll explain when I get back. Go ahead and eat with Lily if you’re hungry. I’ll keep you posted.’
With her stomach in knots and her brain racing, Stella decided to sit in a café for a while to try to calm down and clear her head.
She ordered a cup of soothing mountain tea and sipped it as the sun went down, painting the sky tangerine orange, crimson red and finally, velvety raven black.
Paralysed with indecision, she felt the best course of action was to do nothing for now, but pay attention to Katerina’s words and wait in hope for the way to become clear.
The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her. After all, it was only two days ago she’d flown down the mountain to search for Hector. On finding him safe and well, she’d resolved to see sense and forget all Marina’s stupid comments about the sea.
Yet now, here she was again, panicking about the artist’s words, allowing them to mess with her mind even as she told herself they meant nothing.
What had got into her? She must have gone soft. But having heard what had happened to Katerina’s husband, Stella felt unable to walk away from here. It was as if she were being held back by invisible hands.
She was beginning to feel chilly and once she’d paid up, she decided to stroll the length of the high street, keeping a close eye on the sea at all times.
The light coming from cafés, shops and restaurants was enough to illuminate the water, which shimmered beneath the stars and spread out, as far as the eye could see, like a giant sequinned shawl.
Mr Makris was standing at the entrance of his shoe shop, surveying the passing crowd. He looked very tall and distinguished in a mushroom-coloured knitted waistcoat, with a jaunty yellow cravat round his neck.
The old devil, Stella thought, remembering his illicit romance with Katerina’s boss.
She smiled and nodded an acknowledgment and he waved back, which was a mistake, as he’d been propping himself up against the doorframe and almost lost his balance.
Fortunately, he just managed to grab hold of the frame again and right himself in the nick of time before there was a nasty accident. Relieved, Stella strolled on.
The crowds had thinned by the time she got to the start of the public beach and she stopped, wondering whether to continue.
With nobody else there, the place looked lonely, cold and dark. Even so, she removed her sandals and padded in bare feet across the shingle, until the sharp stones hurt too much and she put on her shoes again.
The crescent moon shone brightly, so she could at least see where she was going. All the parasols were down, secured in the middle by strong rope, and the white plastic sun loungers had been lined up in a row, some way back from the swell.
Walking past, she hugged her arms round her to try to keep warm. There was quite a strong wind here, away from the main buildings, which was making her shiver. Some of the waves rose surprisingly high before curling over and crashing towards the shore.
When she reached the place where she’d found Hector, she thought about turning back. She was quite far from the town now and didn’t want to lose sight of the restaurants and people completely.
However, something made her decide to press on to the dark-grey, rocky point, which jutted some way out, almost into the sea, turning the beach into a cove and providing a natural boundary.
Instead of skirting round the headland and risk getting wet, she clambered over, curious to discover what lay beyond.
Something sharp scraped her knee and she yelped, quickly climbing higher until she was almost at the top.
It seemed like an age since she was on Sweetwater Beach with the children, and all she’d eaten since lunchtime was bread and cheese. Her stomach was empty and her skin prickled from the sun and salty sea, but she seemed to be flooded with adrenaline and had a surge of new-found energy.
Soon, she was high enough to peer over the edge of the promontory. At first, all she could see was another, much smaller, enclosed cove, where the waves reached further up the sand, almost smashing into the craggy cliff behind.
On closer inspection, however, she thought she saw something move at the foot of the cliff: a small, white figure.
It was a man, who appeared to be walking, naked, out to sea. Was he really going for a swim at this time of night on his own? The water would be so cold now, and who knew what currents swirled beneath the surface? And there was no one else around to help if he got into trouble.
Stella’s heart started thumping and a gasp rose to her throat where it remained, trapped, for several seconds before she exhaled.
For a while, she couldn’t move, but stayed rooted to the spot, gaping. The man didn’t stop, or seem to react at all to the icy water, but continued walking slowly and purposefully into the waves. It was as if he’d been pre-programmed, like a robot, and nothing would swerve him from his mission.
In an instant, her brain switched gear and she knew without a doubt what she must do. After shinning over the top of the rocks, she scrambled down the other side and ran as fast as she could across the shingle towards the man.
‘Stop!’ she cried, but the wind carried her voice away and he didn’t hear.
By now, he was up to his shoulders, bent over slightly and pushing hard against the powerful waves, intent on beating the tide at its own game.
Although Stella couldn’t make out the man’s features, the closer she got the more convinced she became that her initial suspicions were correct: it was Jon.
Fear curled its freezing fingers round her insides and her breathing accelerated. She felt as if she were suffocating, yet her muscles had never worked harder or more effectively. She was flying across the beach as if she’d been supercharged, her only goal to reach Jon before it was too late.
On arriving at the water’s edge, without thinking, she stripped off her shoes, shorts and top and flung them, along with her backpack, onto the ground.
Then she waded into the sea, barely even noticing the cold, though it made her gasp involuntarily.
‘Jon! Wait!’ she screamed again and again, until her throat was raw, but he seemed to have blocked ears and didn’t turn.
All that was visible of him now was his head, and still he kept on walking at the same relentless pace. Any moment, he’d dip below the surface and she wouldn’t be able to find him.
It had taken her only about five minutes to scramble down the headland and reach the sea, but it seemed much longer. When she was in deep enough, she plunged headfirst into the swell and swam frantically towards Jon, kicking her legs as hard as she could and extending and pulling furiously with her arms.
He was fully submerged now, save for the crown of his head. To her horror, he ceased moving at this point and she realised he wasn’t even trying to stay afloat; he’d surrendered himself to the waves.
She could hear herself crying, making great big sobbing sounds, but no one was listening and it was no use.
All of a sudden, her outstretched hands touched soft, yielding flesh. She grasped blindly before grabbing, wrapping both arms tightly round his chest, her fingers intertwined. Then she used all her strength to tip him on his back, raising his chin with one hand so his nose and mouth were out of the water.
He inhaled sharply before coughing and spluttering, spewing out salty brine. Relief spread through her and she had a few moments of sweet clarity, when she was able to recall a long-ago lifesaving lesson at school: keep holding on to the chin, not the throat; use sidestroke or backstroke to tow the casualty.
Briefly, the method seemed to work, then without warning, Jon made an eerie, high-pitched, wailing sound and started to struggle, his body twisting, his arms and legs flailing.
In panic, feeling her grip loosen, Stella let go of his chin, seized him round the waist with both arms and held on for dear life.
She could just about touch the bottom, but he was rearing up and down, like a bucking horse, writhing and trying to shake her off. She kept going under, swallowing gulps of water, and her lungs started to burn like hot lava, but still, she wouldn’t let go.
Even in this state of terror, she was repeating the same words in her head, like a mantra – I’m not going to let you die… You’re not going to die like this… I promised Harriet.
But she was getting weaker, she could tell. Her body was starting to give up on her. Then, perhaps, they’d both sink down, down, together.
In her exhaustion, she began to think this might be a relief. She could leave all her troubles behind: Al, Hector, Louise. She could forget them all and just slide gently, her pulse starting to slow, her airways closing, her mind going blank until at last… oblivion.
A nasty thought crept its way into her consciousness: Marina had won. That weird, frightening woman must have told her to stay by the sea so she’d drown.
Out of nowhere, a manic laugh bubbled and burst in Stella’s throat, then she began to cry once more, her tears mixing with the salt water before being washed away.
She’d been duped, and she didn’t even believe in psychics. The whole world had turned upside down and she was doomed to leave, without ever having the chance to set it right again…
Her body felt so heavy and her muscles useless. Her arms and legs went floppy, like a rag doll. She felt herself begin to drift away from Jon as the tide took control, pushing and pulling her at will. Not long now, she thought, in a kind of dream. Soon she’d fall into a timeless sleep…
Something yanked at her flesh and began dragging her backwards, brutally hauling her from her peaceful slumber. She wriggled weakly and tried in vain to push the thing off, all the while thinking – leave me be. I just want to rest.
There was a shout: ‘Stella!’
She was choking, drawing in great gulps of breath. She could feel herself being scraped over sand and pebbles, tiny stones digging into her back, buttocks and thighs. Someone forcing her to sit up, wrapping her in fabric, wiping away her salty vomit.
Dazed, she watched Hector struggling to pull Jon up the beach towards her. She was puzzled. Why was Hector here? She didn’t think he’d been with her before. And if he was saving Jon, someone else must have rescued her. But who?
The person with her was now prising her arms into a T-shirt and fleecy sweatshirt, stretching them down over her head. She was shivering so much, she could hear her teeth clattering together.
‘Here, let’s get these on.’
It was a male voice. Familiar. Comforting. He’d walked round to her other side and was crouching by her feet, pushing them clumsily through the legs of some jeans that weren’t her own.
She blinked a few times, thinking it was Al, her husband, but it couldn’t be. He was in Cornwall. With Sasha. She must be hallucinating. Perhaps that happened when you almost drowned.
‘Can you stand up?’
She tried but was too weak, and she let him lift her off the ground like a child, hooking her arms round his neck while he wrestled her into the trousers.
They were much too big, so he set her down again gently before tightening them round the waist with the belt and putting her in socks, too.
The whole exercise must have been quite an effort with her so feeble and useless, but he didn’t complain.
‘Al, is it you?’ she heard herself ask, bewildered. She was still shivering, but a little less so, and her breathing was becoming easier. ‘What are you doing here?’
He didn’t answer but told her to wait, before hurrying over in just his boxers to help Hector get Jon into some clothes, too.
Jon was making odd moaning noises and she heard him repeat ‘I’m sorry’ over and over. He was alive, thank God. She must have done something right. But she still didn’t understand about Al. Perhaps it was all a dream. Maybe she was dead.
There was a lot of shouting and strange voices. A group of men was running towards them, carrying things – blankets and stretchers. She felt herself being lifted onto a soft bed and wrapped tight in crinkly foil, so she could hardly move. Soon, the men were jogging back the other way with her, taking care not to bump her around too much.
‘Al?’ she whispered piteously, frightened she’d imagined him.
‘I’m right here, Star,’ he replied, coming alongside.
A warm, fuzzy feeling enveloped her, and her skin tingled. Star was his nickname for her. She hadn’t heard it in such a long while.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, fighting back the tears pricking in the corners of her eyes. ‘For everything.’
He touched her cheek, one of the few bits of her that was still exposed.
‘Shh. Don’t talk now. We’ll speak properly later.’
* * *
The rest of the night passed in a bit of a blur. They were airlifted by helicopter to the nearest hospital, where they underwent medical tests. After around eight hours of observation, they were declared fit to go home.
Medics advised getting checked over by a local doctor in two to three days, unless the condition of either of them deteriorated, in which case they should return to the emergency department without delay.
Stella was exhausted but slept fitfully, jerked awake by her own screams. The events of the evening kept replaying in her mind, bringing back hideous memories of her time in the black water, fighting to keep Jon alive, gasping for air.
She was aware of Al’s comforting presence beside her, but didn’t try to have a meaningful conversation. She did ask why he’d come to Crete, though, and how he’d managed to find them.
‘You sounded weird on the phone when we spoke yesterday,’ he explained. ‘I was worried, so I rang Hector. When he told me what was going on with Jon, I decided to catch the next available flight.
‘Neither of you were at the villa when I arrived and Hector said you’d told him you wanted to stay close to the sea for some reason. It sounded odd. Then I read Jon’s letter and heard about the artist’s warning. Basically, Hector and I put two and two together and ran here as fast as we could.’
Stella’s eyes widened and she tried to sit up. ‘You read Jon’s letter? What did it say?’
Al shook his head.
‘Lie down. You need to rest. Jon’s fine. You did an incredibly brave thing. Try to sleep. We’ll discuss this another time.’
Too weary to object, she did as she was told and started to drift off. But her eyelids soon sprang open again.
‘What about Sasha? Where is she?’
She glanced nervously round the white hospital room, half expecting to see the other woman walk through the door.
Al frowned. ‘She’s in London. She went back when I left.’
Stella nodded dumbly.
‘So is she?—?’
The words had hardly left her lips before her husband interrupted.
‘Hush. Don’t think about that now.’
He put a finger gently on her mouth to close it and before long, darkness descended and she was whisked away by sleep.
* * *
Returning to Villa Ariadne felt, to Stella, like coming home. She’d been gone less than twenty-four hours, yet the place felt quite different with Al there and both her children fussing round.
She and Jon went to their rooms, where the others brought them fresh vegetable soup, cooked by Louise, and delicious soft bread.
Lily sat on the end of the bed and wanted to hear every last detail of what had happened.
‘You could’ve died,’ she said with tears in her eyes. ‘I couldn’t bear it if you’d gone. I’d want to die, too.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Stella replied gently, reaching out to hold her daughter’s hand. ‘You’re strong. You’d be okay. Luckily, I’m still very much here, though.’
Later, Louise came to collect the tray and empty dishes. Stella noticed she’d removed all her gold earrings. Perhaps she felt they weren’t appropriate after the events of yesterday. She seemed humbler somehow, lowering her eyes when she spoke to Stella.
‘I’m sorry I was such a cow,’ she said, fiddling with the frayed edge of her denim shorts. ‘I know you were really worried about Jon; that’s why you invited him. I should’ve been supportive. Instead, I made things much more difficult for you.
‘I, I guess I always was a bit jealous of Harriet, as you said in the garden that night. I’m not proud to admit it, but it’s true. You two were so close. I never had someone like that in my life, not even you. I wanted to be your best friend in the world, but I knew with Harriet around, I couldn’t be.
‘Then, when she died, I suppose deep down I thought I stood a chance. But you talked about her all the time and you were so bereft, it was obvious no one would ever take her place. I tried to accept it, but I felt resentful and a bit left out, like I could never live up to her standards. I know that sounds incredibly childish.’
She spoke from the heart and was so humble and remorseful, Stella couldn’t help but accept her apology.
‘Thanks for being so honest,’ she said with a smile. ‘It can’t have been easy. I’m grateful.
‘I need to apologise too,’ she went on with a sigh. ‘I know I’ve behaved really badly over the past eighteen months. I’ve felt sorry for myself and I pushed Al away when he was only trying to support me. I also demanded far too much of you and others, expecting you to be there for me all the time when you had your own stuff going on. I’m sorry I said those dreadful things about Josh, too. I wanted to hurt you and it was spiteful and mean. You’re also right about Hector and Lily. I have neglected them, and I’m sure that contributed to Hector’s meltdown. I’m going to do my best to put that right from now on.’
Louise nodded. ‘That’s great to hear. They’ll really appreciate it and I know everything will be all right with Hector. The other thing is, I didn’t understand Jon was in quite such a bad state.’ She shuddered. ‘I didn’t think he was going to do something like that.’
‘No one did,’ replied Stella. ‘Well, only Marina, maybe.’
Louise’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Her?’
‘Yes. I mean, she was right about telling me to stay near the sea, wasn’t she? Otherwise, Jon mightn’t be with us any more.’
Louise frowned. ‘I suppose so. I’m still inclined to think it’s just coincidence she saw danger in the water, then he tried to drown himself, but we’ll never know. I guess there are some things in life you can’t explain. The main thing is, thank God you’re alive to tell the tale.’
Stella smiled again, before knitting her brows. ‘How is he?’
‘Okay. Very apologetic. We’re taking it in turns to sit with him. Don’t worry, we won’t leave him alone for a minute. I don’t think he’s going to do anything silly again, though. He said it was a moment of madness and he seems really regretful, especially about putting you in such danger. He says he just wants to get home and sort himself out.’
‘He needs to see someone – an expert. I’ll make some enquiries when I’m feeling better.’
‘We’re already on it,’ Louise replied. ‘Al and I. And Jon’s agreed to it, too. We’re going to try to make an appointment for him as soon as he’s back in London. We’re trying to persuade him to change his flight and travel home with us.’
Relief washed through Stella, who took a deep breath. Jon was no longer solely her problem; she had help now. And she and Louise were going to work through their issues and be okay. Her body seemed to grow lighter; she hadn’t realised quite what a burden she’d been carrying. She felt as if this was the first time in months she could properly relax and let go.
News of the rescue had travelled fast round the village and Katerina arrived with a big bunch of flowers she’d picked from the mountainside.
Later, April turned up with all four children in tow and a cake from her shop, which the older kids devoured in front of Stella, scattering crumbs everywhere.
Baby Nikos sat on Stella’s lap, playing with her necklace, and Meaty was fascinated by Al.
‘He’s your husband?’ he asked Stella in a puzzled voice. ‘So how come he wasn’t here and he is now? It’s a good job he came at just the right time, isn’t it? If he’d come tomorrow, he’d have been, what do you call it? A widow?’
‘A widower, yes,’ Stella said with a laugh, glancing at Al, who smiled, revealing the gap in his front teeth. She’d forgotten how much she liked that gap. It made him look cute.
‘Quiet!’ April said crossly to her son. ‘Stella doesn’t want to think about being dead.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Stella replied truthfully. ‘He’s saying it like it is. I admire his directness.’
The final visitor was none other than Marina. Louise hurried upstairs to ask Stella if she wanted to see her, and Stella said she did.
Al insisted on being there, partly because he was intrigued to meet the artist, but he also wanted to be sure she didn’t say anything to upset his wife.
‘You’ve had quite enough shocks since you arrived.’
His eyes widened when Marina entered the room, wearing one of her trademark, multi-coloured tie dye dresses.
She looked very beautiful and delicate, like an exotic bird, with her slim, tanned limbs, silver jewellery, long, straight nose, big black eyes and her shock of wavy hair reaching almost to her waist.
She’d walked all the way from the village carrying one of her large paintings, which she propped up against the wall where Stella could see it.
‘It’s for you,’ she said with a smile, before settling on one of the chairs nearby. Al was beside Stella on the bed. ‘I hope it will remind you of Porto Liakáda – in a good way.’
Stella stared at the abstract canvas in a simple, white wooden frame. It was the one she’d seen Marina working on by the quayside, a joyful splash of bright, swirling colours: yellow, orange, red, violet, silver, turquoise and deep blue.
‘It’s the sea here, isn’t it?’ she said, losing herself in the picture. ‘It’s just how I saw it when I first arrived. It’s beautiful, but I can’t possibly take it from you.’
‘Tsk.’ Marina shook her head. ‘It’s a gift. Accept it.’ She gave Stella a meaningful look. ‘I want you to remember our sea as a happy place.’
‘Thank you.’ Stella was still gazing at the iridescent colours. ‘I’ll treasure it always.’
Marina had been focusing on Stella the entire time, but now glanced round the room, taking everything in.
‘Katerina has a good eye,’ she commented appreciatively. ‘I love everything she’s done with the house.’
Stella raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh! So she’s responsible for the interior design? Not the owner?’
Marina seemed surprised. ‘Katerina is the owner. I’m sorry, I assumed you knew by now. Her employer left the house to her in her will, along with a large sum of money. She trusted Katerina completely to do something good with the villa, knowing she’d have no use of the place herself.
‘Katerina doesn’t like grandness, you see; she prefers the simple life. She doesn’t tell many people that Villa Ariadne is hers. In fact, the villagers have no idea, though a few might suspect it. One day, it will come to me, and I’ll try to do the same as her and rent it out to the right people, those who really need it.’
‘How does she choose the people who need it?’ Al, who’d been quiet up to now, was leaning forwards, elbows on knees, head cocked inquisitively.
‘Oh, Katerina doesn’t choose,’ Marina replied enigmatically. ‘The villa decides.’
With that, she rose swiftly, kissed Stella lightly on the cheek and shook Al’s hand, affording them no time to ask further questions.
‘I’ll leave you to rest,’ she said, straightening her dress and walking towards the door. ‘I’m glad you’re recovering so well.’
It wasn’t until she’d gone that Stella and Al were finally alone to talk.
‘How peculiar!’ Al said, scratching his head. ‘I don’t know what to make of her. What does she mean – the villa decides? It sounds like absolute rubbish, yet she seems so intelligent and plausible.’
‘I agree,’ Stella replied. ‘That’s why I did what I did and looked for Jon. I wanted to believe she was a total fraud, but something in me kept saying maybe she wasn’t, maybe I should listen.’
Al frowned. ‘Still, I can’t swallow the stuff about the villa having some weird power of its own. It’s just a house, for God’s sake. Bricks and mortar – or whatever it’s made of. It didn’t choose for you to come here. You looked online and bingo! You found it. It was the right price, available and it suited your needs; that’s all there is to it.’
Stella went silent for a moment, lost in thought. She was remembering Katerina’s words when they first arrived.
I think you’ll like it here, all of you. Villa Ariadne is a very special place. It’s like nowhere you’ve ever been before.
This trip had certainly been like no other holiday she’d ever had, and it wasn’t over yet.
A cloud seemed to appear from nowhere, casting shadows round the room. She looked at Al’s handsome, gentle face and wanted to cry.
‘There’s something I have to ask you,’ she said, swallowing. Her heart started to go bumpity-bump. ‘I don’t want to, but I need to know the truth.’